


Small Packages

by UltraSwagnus



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Crying, Fluff and Smut, Forced Eye Contact, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Valve Fingering (Transformers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 07:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18231929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltraSwagnus/pseuds/UltraSwagnus
Summary: Good things do indeed come in small packages.





	Small Packages

It was Cyclonus’ request, one that had surprised Tailgate, but he was open to the idea. It took Cyclonus a little bit of time to fully express his wish, but the disposal unit waited patiently, holding the other’s hand for support as he described the scene in detail. After they had discussed it, parameters were set.

Acquiring the appropriate materials necessary without arousing any suspicion on board the Lost Light proved to be a small challenge, but it didn’t take long. You just had to ask the right person, and luckily for Cyclonus, this person respected his wanting to be discrete about it. That, and he knew that the jet would kill him if anyone found out about this. A platonic respect out of fear. Sounds about right.

“What brings you in today? Business, or pleasure?”

Cyclonus didn’t answer. Whirl knew why he was here. They had talked about this a few days prior. Pleasure _was_ his business, obviously.

“Lighten up, it was just a joke,” the helicopter sighed. He went over to his desk and grabbed a small box. He handed it to the warrior who promptly tucked it away into his subspace.

“Thank you,” he said, leaving as swiftly as he had entered. He left before Whirl could even get out a “good things come in small packages” joke. Was it a reference to what was in the small box? Was it a play on words about Tailgate? Whirl didn’t even know the answer to that, but he knew it would’ve been funny.

Maybe not to Cyclonus.

Ok, yeah, definitely not to Cyclonus.

***

Cyclonus sat on his knees comfortably, making himself as near eye level to Tailgate as he could. He retrieved the box from his subspace and handed it to the other.

“Wow! That was fast!” the minibot exclaimed. “You were making it sound like it would take weeks, not days.”

Cyclonus gave a sheepish smile. He was extremely grateful at how supportive Tailgate was being about all of this. It’s not easy opening up to someone about the personal things that you’re into, even if that person is someone you love and trust with all your spark. It takes time, and a lot of patience.

Tailgate set the box down and wrapped his arms around the jet’s neck, nuzzling into a warm embrace. “It’s ok, Cyclonus. Everyone likes different things.” The purple mech returned the hug, and squeezed gently. Hearing those words almost made the warrior tear up. His anxious spark glowed warm inside of its chamber.

Tailgate pulled away and the jet grabbed his hands. They looked deep into each other’s optics. Cyclonus brought the small servos to his lips and planted kisses on them, causing the smaller bot to smile with his eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

***

Tailgate opened the box and withdrew the collar. It was a dull, rust color, but the cosmetic details didn't matter. It would serve its purpose, and its purpose was going around Cyclonus’ neck.

“Is this too tight?”

“It’s good,” Cyclonus replied. “It’s...comfortable.”

“Good,” the other said back, reaching into the box for the final piece. Tailgate attached the metal clasp through the ring on the front and gripped the long, leather strap. He wrapped it around his hand a couple of times and pulled it as to test the tautness of it. Cyclonus flushed at the sight, knowing well that he was at the other end of the leash. He averted his optics.

“Don’t look away from me,” the disposal unit said as he tugged the strap. The jet returned his gaze to his partner, who had him completely under his control. “Come here, Cyclonus.”

The warrior leaned forward and rested his chin on top of the mini’s shoulder. Tailgate took his free hand an ran his pointer digit along several neck cables close to the other’s jawline. Cyclonus shivered as he felt the finger push past the exposed cables and graze against smaller, unseen ones.

“Mmmmmm,” the jet hummed.

“Feels good?”

“ _Ahhh_ , _mmmm_ , y-yes.”

Tailgate’s finger vibrated as Cyclonus gave his reponse. The cord he was caressing was relatively close to his vocalizer. It was an erogenous zone for the mech, and it made his knees weak when the mini touched it. The jet took his hands and grabbed the mini’s hips to help stabilize himself.

“Weak in the knees already?” Tailgate teased. He removed his servo from the collared neck and groped at Cyclonus’ array plating. It was very warm, and the purple mech winced from the sudden touch.

“Open,” he ordered.

Clawed servos moved over the burning array and activated the opening mechanism, exposing himself to Tailgate and surrendering to his will. That also meant surrendering to the two digits wiggling their way into his valve and rubbing against a few groupings of sensor nodes in the process.

“ _Ah, Tailgate!!_ ”

“Cyclonus, be quiet. I didn’t say you could say anything.”

The larger bot shut his mouth and gritted his teeth. His frame trembled slightly as his partner continued to finger him, stimulating every available sweet spot the jet’s valve had to offer. He moved his hip joints to complement Tailgate’s servo thrusts and add to the pleasure.

“Stay still. You’re moving too much.”

Cyclonus’ back strut stiffened. Tailgate had taken his voice, and now his movements. The leather strap hanging between them turned into chains within his mind. He was wholly Tailgate’s, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

***

Tailgate was having too much fun with this. Who knew that a little bit of leather and a commanding voice could turn such a brave warrior into a sopping mess? He didn’t mind that he was in a more dominant role. He was just glad Cyclonus was enjoying himself.

He thrust his fingers in as deep as they would physically allow. Cyclonus was warm and wet, and all around the biggest turn on in the disposal bot’s life. He didn’t want to use his digits anymore. He wanted to use _something else_. He pulled the leash as to get the other’s attention.

“Cyclonus, lay on your back.”

The jet obeyed, knowing exactly where this was going. In his excitement, his upper array cover snapped open, allowing his fully pressurizing spike to curl inward towards his abdomen.

“Someone’s excited,” Tailgate said. There were times where his own panels would pop open in front of Cyclonus when he got too worked up, so it was a little funny to see it happen to someone else. In response, he let out a few chuckles as he opened his own spike cover.

“You’re breaking character,” the jet scoffed, attempting to mask his embarrassment.

“Am I?” The white bot wondered aloud. Not giving the other a chance to reply, Tailgate inserted his length into the jet all at once, and began to usher out thrusts that hit internal nodes where his fingers couldn’t.

Cyclonus arched his back strut sharply and let out a yell of primal vernacular, then promptly covered his mouth with a servo as to prevent it from happening again. Unfortunately, this would prove to be difficult for the Tetrahexian, because Tailgate’s spike was liken to metallic velvet, and it rubbed the inner valve mesh in all the right ways.

“Is this ‘in character’ enough for you, Cyclonus?” the minibot jeered, pulling the leash a little tighter than he had been. “Now, be quiet and let me enjoy this. This isn’t for _you_.”

The warrior drew a single digit towards his mouth and bit down, but not enough to draw energon. He needed to do something to stifle the moans and whimpers that were desperately trying to escape past his fangs.

***

“I...want you to...to…”

Tailgate patted the hand as he held it with his other.

“Take your time, Cyclonus. I’m listening.”

The jet took a deep ventilation.

“.... _use me_.”

And that he was. This wasn’t about love making. He needn’t pace himself to accommodate to Cyclonus’ needs. This was about him, taking what Cyclonus was freely giving, or better yet, what Cyclonus had _asked him_ to take. The disposal bot thrusted repeatedly with a lustful vigor. He was not going to last too long the way he was going. He could feel his visor shine brighter as the upsurgence of his overload started to build while he sang moans into the open air.

“ _....Tailgate…!_ ”

“ _MMMmmmm_ , yes, Cyclonus? What is it?”

“I-I’m…..”

Tailgate stopped, mid stroke. “Are you about to have an overload _before I do_?” the smaller mech asked. He gripped the leash that was still wrapped around his servo and gave it a squeeze. The sound of the leather screamed in the warrior’s audials. The purple mech didn’t answer, his silence answering for him. The smaller mech resumed his deep strokes into the hungry valve.

“ _Selfish_ ,” he chastised, changing his tempo to be more rhythmic. “Go ahead, Cyclonus.”

Cyclonus opened his legs wider, giving the other more room and leverage to work with. He relaxed into the slow release of his climax.

“Ahhh, _AAAAAAAAHHHHH_ … _!!!_ ”

Thick spurts of hot transfluid striped against the jet’s abdominal plates. He shuddered as his valve clenched around a still thrusting spike. He could feel optical fluid building up and flowing down as his circuits melted inside of him.

“ _OOOOOOOOh, Tailgate…!_ ” Cyclonus groaned.

***

He had to pull out. Seeing, hearing, and feeling how soft his love got during a climax almost always pushed him over the edge. His throbbing spike protested as it was removed, and dripped out pre-fluid between the two mechs in anger.

_Just a few more strokes, please. I’m ready to…!_

No. Tailgate wasn’t going have his resolve broken that easily. He knew what he wanted and how he was going to get it. The mini grabbed the semi-flacid spike between Cyclonus’ shaky legs and gave it a couple of tugs, causing its possessor to whine from the sensitivity.

“You had yours, now I get _mine_ ,” he declared. After a minute of sweet suffering at the larger mech’s expense, the spike became erect once again.

“Sit up, Cyclonus,” demanded the other, tugging the leash assertively. It was a struggle, considering that he was still recovering, but an order was an order.

Tailgate climbed into the jet’s lap and positioned himself over the spike. He opened his own valve cover and slowly descended upon it. The two moaned in unison at their oneness. Cyclonus took his hands and rested them on Tailgate’s hips, helping him stabilize as he started to ride. The disposal unit swatted at the large hands at the offense.

“Did I say you could touch me?”

No, he didn’t. Cyclonus withdrew his hands. As a consequence, Tailgate wrapped the leash around his hand several more times, forcing the jet to lean in with only a small space between them. Using his free hand, the white mech gripped purple shoulder plates and used it for support as he bounced and grinded down on the appendage. Cyclonus had a lovely texture and Tailgate’s valve responded to it accordingly. It had already been made wet by all the foreplay, but it’s rate of lubrication had increased significantly, flowing freely with each cycle of movement. The minibot moaned as the textures scrapped against his internal nodes over and over again. He could feel the charge building as his weight lifted and fell back on Cyclonus’ length. His hips gyrated and his grip on both the leather strap and his love’s shoulder tightened. He threw back his helm back as his overload began.

“ _Oooooooooh..!_ _Ah! HAa! Cyclonus!!!_ ”

Tailgate’s visor flared a bright blue. He held onto the jet for dear life as his network lit up like an earth holiday tree. He dropped his end of the leash and it unraveled onto the ground. The now free servo made its way towards the now ejaculating spike, where it helped to cover Cyclonus even more so with fluid, by milking every drop out of his system. He let out a deep, ventilating sigh as the event faded. Tailgate had worn himself out.

Cyclonus undid the collar around his neck and tossed it to the side. He smiled at Tailgate as he retracted his spike. He pulled the smaller bot into his arms and held him close to his spark. He felt closer to Tailgate, with a level of intimacy he’s never had before. The plating on his chest receded, allowing the chamber of his spark to show. It flickered dully as the spark within it lived. Tailgate, lying in the arms of the love of his life, being deeply moved by this act, reciprocated it.

And they pressed deeply into each other, allowing the mechanisms of their spark chambers to transform into a single unit, letting their sparks bond. This overwhelmed the jet, and he wept into the other’s helm. Tailgate wiped away the tears before they could enter the hollowed jaw.

“It’s ok, Cyclonus. It’s ok. I know.”

He waited a minute before speaking, giving his vocalize time to steady itself.

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out WAY longer and WAY more complex than I had originally planned. Anyway, I hope you liked it!!


End file.
